


Dancing On My Own

by Ftballfangrl



Series: 31 days of Deledier [6]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 04:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ftballfangrl/pseuds/Ftballfangrl





	Dancing On My Own

_ Somebody said you got a new friend _

_ But does she love you better than I can? _

_ And there's a big black sky over my town _

_ I know where you're at I bet she's around _

He finds out on a Sunday, the rain lashing against the window. He’s sat in his cinema room, staring across at the empty seat next to him. His house is dark and cold and he tucks the collar of his jumper over his chin. His eyes fall on a pair of trainers in the corner of the room, the colour of them to bright for him, and he absentmindedly reaches for his phone. The screen lights up and he scrolls through the notifications. 

**Twitter - I bet @ericdier’s not pleased. . .**

He swipes his thumb, furrowing his brow. And then his stomach drops. 

**‘England ace scores model girlfriend’**

Words. That’s all they are. It doesn’t mean anything. That’s what he tells himself as he reads the headline, as he scans the article and tries not to focus on the pictures. He closes the app, hands shaking, and opens another. He presses on a name, heart hammering in his chest and he types. He types and he deletes and then he types again. He pours his heart out and then erases it all and he wants to scream. 

~~ You: Do you love her?  ~~

~~You: Does she know you like I do?~~

You: Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?

Delboy: Nah, it’s all good. See you in the morning x

Words. Words that burn. Words that pull at his insides and twist them until he can’t breath. Words that shatter the fragile thing he’s been holding onto, cradling it in his palm, scared to move in case it breaks. But it clearly doesn’t matter anymore so he closes his fist, nails digging into skin. And then there’s a memory. The memory of limbs wrapped together, mouths finding each other in the dark. The ghost of fingers pressed against skin, creating a map and claiming every inch. The echo of voices, soft and nervous as names fell from lips in a way they hadn’t before. 

His lungs burn in his chest and his vision blurs. He throws his phone and pushes himself up from the sofa, throwing a blanket over the trainers as he walks out of the room. He stands in his hallway, the light from the moon casting shadows across the wooden floor. The rain is pounding on the skylight but other than that there is silence. A silence that taunts him, that makes him think of Sunday’s filled with laughter, teasing, jokes and hazel eyes and he squeezes his own shut to block it all out. His back is against the wall and he slides down, legs collapsing beneath him. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and just sits. He sits and thinks and thinks some more. All he can see are those pictures. A mouth lingering on the crook of a neck. A hand cupped gently, thumb brushing against a jaw. A boy and a girl and a crack in his heart as he wonders how he could be so wrong. 

  
  


_ And yeah I know it's stupid _

_ But I just gotta see it for myself _

He meets her on a Thursday, the warm smile she gives him feels like a knife through his heart. They’re all giggles and half finished sentences, their hands entwined and their eyes fixed on each other. He pours them a drink, standing in his kitchen, the storm raging outside matching the maelstrom in his mind. She’s nice and he hates her for it. She’d stepped into his home and asked how he was, fussing over the dogs and he’d wanted to tell her to leave. His gaze falls to Dele and his chest burns. Those hazel eyes are soft and he reaches out, tucking his arm around her waist. He pulls her close and whispers something in her ear and the smile that plays on her lips tugs at his heart and he thinks it might unspool in front of him. 

There’d been no warning. Just a knock at the door and a face pressed up against the frosted window. His stomach had flipped, Dele’s silhouette framed in the glass and then he’d opened the door and it had plummeted. Now Dele was looking at him, telling him something about their day but his words were warped and far away. He painted a smile on his face, adjusting his eyes and loosening his shoulders. They weren’t staying long, somewhere else to be. He wished he didn’t care but he can’t help but notice the squeeze of her hand, the intake of breath and his lungs burn in his chest as forgets how to breathe. 

“We’ve got to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Anniversary, baby what are you talking about?”

“4 months, isn’t that right?”

“Oh your so silly. Eric isn’t he silly?”

_ Four months _

He’s not listening. He’s not in the room. He’s in a hotel, bed sheets wrapped around his legs. He’s breathing in time with the rise and fall of the chest he’s got his head on and he’s tracing his fingertip over a tattoo. The world tilts on its axis and he shifts his focus, those hazel eyes staring at him. He looks away, a pit in his stomach and he shrugs his shoulders. The dogs come running in and he’s grateful for the distraction. His back is turned but it’s not enough and the words sear across his heart. 

“Might even treat us to my favourite breakfast.” 

“Oh what’s that then?”

_ Oatmeal pancakes, strawberries and greek yoghurt _

“Oatmeal pancakes, strawberries and greek yoghurt” 

He almost mouths the words as Dele says them and his cheeks burn. He stares at the countertop and where there’s smooth marble he sees a mess. He sees sugar and eggs and strawberry tops. He sees splatters of batter and dashes of yoghurt. He sees their names, drawn in flour and the long, tender fingers that had put them there. He gets them to leave after that, feigning tiredness. Dele shoos him a look but he busies himself with the dogs. She thanks him for letting them stop by and then they are gone. The silence that replaces them is deafening and he leans against the side, pressing on his wrists. His phone vibrates and he picks it up, knowing who it will be. 

Delboy: Cheers for tonight Diet. It meant a lot. Do you like her?

~~ You: She didn’t even know about the pancakes ~~

You: Yeah she’s really nice Del. 

_ I'm in the corner _

_ Watching you kiss her _

_ And I'm right over here _

_ Why can't you see me? _

_ And I'm givin' it my all _

_ But I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh  _

_ I keep dancing on my own _

_ I just wanna dance all night _

_ I'm all messed up, I'm so out of line _

_ Stilettos on broken bottles _

_ I'm spinning around in circles _

It happens again on a Wednesday. He doesn’t mean for it to happen but it does. They’re away on international duty and he finds himself in another hotel room, the creaky air con a whirring reminder of another place, another time. The game is a big one and they win. They win and Dele scores the goal that decides it and they find themselves crushed together in the melee. Their chests are tight with exertion, their eyes are wide with exhilaration and he’s falling and he knows he won’t be able to stop himself. 

It’s messy and urgent and hard. It’s a million things that they both cannot say translated into a kiss, a caress. Its teeth and fingers digging into skin, hard enough to leave a mark. It’s Dele’s tongue, tracing everywhere it can, tasting and teasing until he can’t take it any longer. It’s his hand, curled into a fist and the feel of Dele relenting under his touch. It’s the duvet on the floor, their bodies merged together. It’s his name on Dele’s lips and the way it makes his heart expand. It’s the way they fit together and how right it feels. Its wetness on his cheeks as they find their release, tears shining in his eyes as he silently pleads with Dele to stay. 

Because he knows. As he feels a lingering kiss on his shoulder, as Dele pulls away, as he lifts up the covers and slips off the bed, as he feels the empty expanse of mattress beneath his fingers. He knows what it means, what that signifies and he feels the hot sting of more tears as a sob shatters the back of his throat. He gathers his pillow and pushes it against his mouth, shoulders shaking, the sound of the door clicking shut cleaving his chest in two. 

~~ You: I love you ~~

~~ You: Please don’t do this  ~~

~~ You: Where have you gone?  ~~

~~ You: I can’t sleep without you ~~

Delboy: I’m sorry 

~~You: No you’re not.~~

You: Me too

  
  


_ And I'm in the corner _

_ Watching you kiss her _

_ And I'm right over here _

_ Why can't you see me? _

_ And I'm giving it my all _

_ But I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh _

_ And I keep dancing on my own _

_ And oh, no _

_ So far away _

_ But still so near _

_ The lights come on _

_ The music dies _

_ But you don't see me standing here _

_ I just came to say goodbye _

He proposes on a Sunday. He knows it’s going to happen but it still hurts. His phone pings with notifications and he pushes it away, dragging his hands through his hair. It’s Summer and the sun is shining, bathing the kitchen in light. It’s been six months. Six months since he last felt Dele’s touch, since he’d felt him gasp into his mouth, since he’d last felt like he was alive. The sound of laughter drifts in through the open doors and he grabs his phone and pushes himself off the stool. He stands in the doorway to the cinema room and his phone vibrates. He tries to ignore it but it won’t relent and he unlocks it, notifications filling the screen. He scrolls past them all and clicks on the one that he knows he shouldn’t. Their faces fill the screen and she’s holding her hand in front of her face. The ring is huge and it sparkles in the flash of the camera. His eyes fall to the caption and he feels his throat close up. 

**Dele - Luckiest guy in the** **🌍**

His legs feel like jelly and his hands are shaking. He stumbles forwards and collapses on the sofa, head in his hands. His phone vibrates again and he grabs it, squeezing it in his palm. His world is on fire and theirs is still turning and Dele is moving further and further away. He falls back and stares up at the ceiling, memories crowding, clawing at the sides of his brain. 

_ You did it on our day.  _ The thought hits him like a freight train and his eyes sting. He lowers his head and stares straight ahead of him, suddenly aware of how hard his heart is beating. The empty house seems to close in around him and all he can focus on is this room and the fact he will probably never see Dele in it again. He’ll never watch his face light up as he beats him at Mario Kart. He’ll never roll his eyes as he spills his popcorn everywhere, the film they’re watching making him jump. He’ll never pull a blanket over him, staring at the way his eyelashes flutter against his skin as he falls asleep with his head in his lap. All of those Sundays, everything that is wrapped up in this room and in his heart. Gone. 

~~ You: That should have been me ~~

~~ You: In another life it would have been ~~

~~ You: I still love you.  ~~

~~ You: Did you ever love me too? ~~

You: Congrats Delboy 

Delboy: Thanks Diet, means a lot x 

_ I'm in the corner _

_ Watching you kiss her _

_ And I'm giving it my all _

_ But I'm not the guy you're taking home _

_ And I keep dancing on my own _

_ Said, I'm in the corner _

_ Watching you kiss her _

_ And I'm right over here _

_ Why can't you see me? _

_ And I'm giving it my all _

_ But I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh _

_ And I keep dancing on my own _

He does it on a Monday, the ink still drying. He walks through the training ground, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. He ignores the calls from his teammates, the hands in the air, the confused looks. He walks and he reminds himself how to breath. He thought he could do it. He thought he could move on, be happy, exist in the same place. But he was wrong. It’s torture. Seeing Dele everyday, hearing him talk about wedding plans with Harry. He can’t do it. His heart can’t take it. It’s battered and bruised and it has to stop. 

He knocks on the door and waits, the papers clutched tight in his hand. It’s a tense meeting, a lot of back and forth and a lot of explaining. But he doesn’t relent. He needs to leave. No it’s not because of the way he’s been treated. Yes he’s been happy at the club. No there was nothing they could have done. 

_ I’m in love with him and he’s marrying someone else. Please, I have to go.  _

“I’d like to go home. Back to Portugal.” 

A few more questions and then handshakes. He walks out of the room and his chest feels heavy. It’s for the best. There’s nothing for him here anymore. He loves the club, loves the team but he loves Dele too much. He makes his way to the gym, legs like lead and he’s the first person he sees. A wave, a smirk and his heart is in ribbons. In another place and another time maybe he’d close the distance between them, grab Dele’s face between his hands and kiss him. Kiss him until he understood, until he realised, until he pulled back and said those words that he knows are never going to come. His stomach twists and he simply waves and goes the other way 

This is it. 

_ Goodbye Dele. _

_ So far away _

_ But still so near _

_ The lights come on _

_ The music dies _

_ But you don't see me standing here _

  
  
  



End file.
